Volume 17 , Issue 21

1895 - Hunting Down Bandits

In the Fort Worth Gazette, dated Sunday, 10 March 1895, page 20 we found this little headline mentioning: "Hunting Down Bandits." Two Indian Territory outlaws were captured by the sheriff after a week's hot chase. It was reported as a lively battle in which three were wounded.

The Desperadoes were in a log house and resisted the officers' rattling fusillade until forced to surrender. The cabin burned.

Bill and John Shelly, two desperate Indian Territory outlaws, were captured four weeks before 10 March 1895, after a long and hard chase, which was attended by many exciting adventures, in which a World reporter took part.

The outlaws "rustlers," they were called in the picturesque vernacular of the prairie, were trailed over the snow for eight days, and were finally located in a cabin which was necessary to set fire to in order to bring the bandits to bay, which was accomplished only in the face of a rattling fusillade from the sharpshooters' well-aimed rifles.

The Shelly brothers had been operating in the region terrorized by the agile Bill Cook, the dalton boys' and the Starrs. The Shellys left their rendezvous in the Creek country, near Tulsa, and under an alias took up a claim near the town of Cleveland, in pawnee county, Oklahoma. There their weakness for riding other people's horses got them into jail.

One day several months ago, in 1895, the escaped by knocking down the jailor, binding and gagging him and taking his pistol. Sheriff Lake and posse pursued them, fought them, and in the battle severely wounded John Shelly. But the Shellys were well mounted and succeeded in getting away.

Several weeks before the men were seen near Checotah, in the Creek country, and Sheriff Lake determined to run them down. It was learned that they were friends of Bill Cook, "Skeeters" and Cherokee Bill, and that they would fight. A World reporter was in that country at the time was invited to accompany the sheriff as a member of the posse.

The start was made from Pawnee on Sunday morning, January 27, 1895. Besides the reporter, the sheriff was accompanied by Deputy Marshal Frank Canton, who had been in many famous encounters with cattle "Rustlers" in the west. A driver known from Oklahoma to the Rockies as Enoch Arden had charge of the mule team which drew the camping outfit. The team with two heavy saddle horses, was to take the party out and bring back the prisoners. Each member of the party was armed with a 44 Winchester repeater, a Colt's revolver of the same calibre and about one hundred rounds of ammunition. Two breech-loading shotguns were taken along to shoot game with.

The left Pawnee in a blinding snowstorm, hoping to make the mouth of the Cimmaron, forty miles distant, by nightfall, but the trail was so faint that they traveled very slowly. Night came on with the welcome smoke of a dugout in sight, inside of which the sheriff found an old friend, who greeted them with border hospitality of the genuine sort. He had a roaring log fire which made his lonely prairie home proof against the zero blizzard that was howling outside. The shivering animals were put in a neighboring dugout and then they had supper.

The proprietor of the dugout, Thos. McAnally, cooked for them a steaming platter of venison, a great one of corn bread and some strong black coffee. No epicure supping at Delmonico's ever relished a meal as they did this simple but abundant offering of their dugout host. And then came the pipes and stories and talk about the news of the day, and while the storm raged up and down the prairie the man of the dugout took down his fiddle and in the glare of the firelight played on it such tunes as only a fiddler born and raised in Arkansas could play -- jigs and reels and plantation airs and negro love ballads, tunes sacred and profane succeeding each other in rapid succession and drowning the hoarse roar of the storm.

It was a wondrous spectacle, this shaggy prairie Ysaye pushing his trembling bow across the straining strings of his violin, hugging the tuneful instrument and swaying with it to and fro in a delirium of musical joy.

The other noteworthy incident of the night was the disappearance of their driver. Enoch Arden went out at midnight to look after the animals. He fell into a newly dug well half full of drifted snow. The storm prevented their hearing his cries, and after an hour or more of imprisonment he was hauled out half dead.

As the sheriff exclaimed the next morning, "Splendid weather for our kind of hunting, boys. The game won't be looking for us, and we will catch them at home, if not napping."

The headed for the Arkansas river, but the trail was blind and the animals could make little progress through the drifts, now four or five feet deep. At 2 p.m. they reached the Cimarron river, which was frozen over, but not deep enough to bear the animals. Long poles were cut, and with these the men rode into the water and slowly and laboriously broke a channel through the ice to the further side.

The party then all crossed through, but the suffering from he cold was intense, and both animals and men were covered with ice. After a long ride, Tulsa was reached at 10 o'clock at night. The only hotel in the camp was filled and they had to sleep in the haymow.

At this point the party was reinforced by two men, dean Hogan, one of the best-known deputy marshals in the Indian Territory, and a young physician named Dr. Bland. Deputy Hogan, having an ugly job on hand in the section of the country they were to visit, had agreed to join forces with their party on the reciprocity plan. Dr. Bland, who was a citizen of the Creek Nation by marriage, had about a year ago shot and killed a man who was suspected of belonging to a gang that had been stealing his cattle. The gang had succeeded in having him arrested and taken to Fort Smith, where he was indicted for murder, although all his neighbors declare that he should have been rewarded instead. He was out on a heavy bond, and lost no opportunity to even up with the en who caused him so much trouble. He was fearless, active, a capital shot, and was a most welcome addition tot he party.

At this time, Tulsa was especially interesting, because a few days before Jeff Perryman, the son of Chief Perryman, had gone on a spree and shot into a can of powder in a hardware store, blowing up himself and the proprietor and ruining the building, and also because of a report that Him French and Sam McWilliams, who were supposed to have been shot and killed a week later while trying to rob a store, were hanging around.

The weather continued intensely clod when, on Wednesday morning, their party, now increased to six, rode out of Tulsa by different routes, so as to throw off the friends of the outlaws, who were everywhere on the alert to let them know of the movements of the officers. A few miles out they all came together again, and riding in a southeasterly direction made all haste to reach a point forty miles distant, near which Deputy Hogan had been informed a couple of cattle thieves were encamped.

The drive was made without stopping to a point in the heavy timbered bottom of the Arkansas some two miles from where the Shelley's camp was located. Stopping near the log hut of a friendly squatter, where water could be secured, they set up camp. The ground was cleared of snow, and soon a big log fire was sending its sparks high above the treetops, around which they thawed out their stiffened limbs. A number of jack rabbits, prairie chickens and quail had been shot during the day, and these, with coffee and bread baked in an iron camp oven covered with hot coals, made a glorious supper.

They were now in the very heart of the wildest and most lawless part of not only the Creek Nation, but of the whole Indian Territory. Here had been the favorite rendezvous of nearly all the most desperate outlaws, when hard pressed. This almost virgin forest with tis dense thicket of undergrowth and long afforded them refuge and protection; here more than one brave deputy marshal and met his death. From eh squatter it was learned that the Shelly brothers had been seen in their camp two days before, so they were confident that the trial was a warm one.

It was after midnight when arrangements for the night were completed. One man was detailed to remain i camp to watch the stock, while the other five, after drinking another cup of steaming coffee, took up their Winchesters, and, after examining them to see that they were in good order, quietly left the camp and walked two miles through the forest until the tent of the outlaws was sighted.

here a whispered consultation was heldd. Each man was then given his orders, which were to take up a position behind a tree and keep on the alert until morning. Then it was hoped they should be able to cover the outlaws when they came out to their horses, which were tethered near by.

When the first gray streaks of dawn appeared each man stood at his post with benumbed fingers and frost-bitten feet, but with senses alive to the expected signal of danger. They all expected to hear the bullets singing through the forest and nerved themselves for a fight. But no sign of life appeared about the tent until after sunrise. Then a faint curl of smoke from eh stovepipe showed that someone was inside. Still no one came out. At last we heard the clear call of a partridge in the frosty air. This was the leader's signal to advance. With rifle in readiness each man moved forward noiselessly and rapidly. All arrived at the tent together, the fall of the canvas was quickly flung back, rifles were leveled to cover the interior, but the game had flown.

The only person visible was a lad about fourteen years old. He seemed but little surprised. In a bunk was a man still asleep, and by his side lay a Winchester. The gun was secured and the man waked up. His astonishment was almost pitiful. This man, it seems, was wanted also, and was taken prisoner.

After this was done, the boy turned on the prisoner and exclaimed, "Yes, durn ye, ye wouldn't git up when I tole ye, an now yer gone an got coached by the marshals, and I ain't sorry nuther."

The prisoner was Sam Patch, and when he saw Dr. Bland he noted as if he thought his day had come. It was on Patch's testimony, it was learned, that the doctor had been indicted and was to be tried for his life. He now frankly confessed that his testimony had been bought. He gave them some important information, viz., that the Shelly bothers had left camp two days before to go to the "ranch," thirty-five miles distant. He offered to guide them thither.

After breakfast they all started off. They rode all that day and at night slept in Sever's camp, and at daylight next morning started for the Crewel ranch, five miles distant, where the rustlers were said to be. Driving rapidly up behind some hay ricks the party alighted, and with guns ready for a fight rushed upon the house only to find it empty, the outlaws gone during the night evidently having been informed that they were in the neighborhood.

They then rode into Muskogee, which they made that night, and the following afternoon arrived at Checotah, having first hidden their arms in the wagon. Here by inquiry the sheriff learned that the Shellys were hiding in a log cabin about six miles southeast of the village. So they all got ready for another ride across country,and, accompanied by a local officer named McCann, they arrived at 10 p.m. that night at the house of a rancher named Wells, one mile distant from he house occupied by the Shellys.

This is where they put up for the night. Mr. Wells was not surprised to learn the character of his new neighbors, who passed under the name of Pierce; he had already had his suspicions aroused from sundry visits to his smoke house and corn crib, but when he was asked to assist in the capture he flatly refused, "Not that I am afraid of personal injury now, but this class of people is too numerous for me to antagonize them; if they found me any too active in upholding the law I would not have a hood of stock left, and they would make the country to hot to hold me. you can have anything I've got, and welcome, but you must do your work without other aid from me."

At daybreak the next morning the log hut in which lived the outlaws they had followed so persistently and so far was surrounded and the inmates were commanded to come out and surrender. This, after some parleying they agreed to do, but it proved to be only a ruse to gain time. They were evidently not going to yield without a struggle. That is not the Indian Territory outlaw's way. He does not meekly throw up his hands at the first show of authority, he shoots. Driven into a corner he would fight like a hunted animal, and if at the end he must surrender it was only in the face of terrible odds.

The shells kept perfectly quiet while they waited, with guns cocked. Sheriff Lake then ordered them to hurry, and then came back the reply, shouted defiantly from the cabin:

"Since you are in such a hurry about it, come in and get us; the door is not locked." Then pistol shot from the inside rang out,a nd the ball, passing through the door, struck Dr. Bland on the wrist, inflicting a slight wound. Almost immediately another shot was fired through a crack, striking Deputy McCann in the back, inflicting a slight flesh wound.

The posse then fired a valley into both doors and retreated behind a barn about eighty yards distant. They then separated and made a wide detour, and coming up behind the trees completely surrounded the house and rendered escape practically impossible.

it was an ideal place for a siege. The house was a low log hut with a door at each end, but with no windows. From eh interior the besieged could peer through the cracks and watch their movements, while they could not see what was going on within the house. Every man was instructed to keep as much out of sight as possible and to fire into the doors or cracks as often as opportunity offered.

They then commenced a lively attack upon the outlaws' little fort, which was answered with good will from the horse. After awhile another parley was held, but the Shellys swore that they would never give up. They asked that a woman, the wife of the elder Shelly, who was with them, and a boy, be allowed to leave the house. This request was granted, and the woman and the boy came out and walked away, the woman weeping bitterly.

it was now evident that the object of the besieged men as to stand off the attacking party until dark, and then make a break for liberty, knowing well that the posse, being benumbed with cold, would be at a great disadvantage, and that a bold dash in the darkness would be nearly certain of success.

By noon it was apparent that the men could not be dislodged from their fortress unless heroic measures were resorted to. Accordingly it was determined to fire the house. A can of oil and a wagon-load of hay were secured. The wagon was uncoupled, and to the rear wheels an upright barricade of oak rails was fastened with ropes; to the outer side of this was fastened a large bundle of hay and dry wood, which was thoroughly started with oil.

At 4 p.m. this ingenious and formidable death-machine was ready, and two men who were detailed for that dangerous duty began to push the barricade through the deep snow toward the fort. The rest of the party now kept up such a killing fire that the men in the house were compelled to lie down upon the floor and probably were not aware of what was being done until the barricade was within ten feet of the door. Then realizing their danger, the Shellys poured a desperate fire at close range into the barricade, and it was during this onslaught that one of the posse fired a ball through the door, which struck Bill Shelly in the thigh and made serious wound.

In ten minutes more the wheels of the wagon were against the house, and the Shellys were doomed. A match was applied to the hay and in an instant a great sheet of flame, fanned by a strong wind, enveloped the whole side of the hut. The men saw they were beaten, and calling out that they would surrender, came out, holding their hands above their heads.

The battle was over and the desperadoes, for whom the sheriff's posse had traveled over two hundred miles and suffered a week of terrible exposure and hardship, were once more in captivity. But the success of the moment outweighed every thought of themselves, and it was rather a jolly party that turned its face toward Cheoctah.

Arriving there it was found that the injuries of the wounded Shelly were such that he could not be taken back by wagon, so Sheriff Lake and Deputy Canton left with the prisoners by rail, leaving the rest of the party to make the tiresome journey of 200 miles home as they had come. (story via AP in New York World)
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